One Forward, Two Back
by NDBaby
Summary: One of our characters makes a decision to move forward. Forward into which future? Strong Picard/Crusher with hints of R/T. Set immediately prior to Insurrection, Data is on Ba'ku in the middle of the duck blind mission.


One Forward, Two Back

by NDBaby, 2013.

One of our characters makes a decision to move forward. Forward into which future? Strong Picard/Crusher with hints of R/T. Set immediately prior to Insurrection, Data is on Ba'ku in the middle of the duck blind mission.

Disclaimers: Imitation is the highest form of flattery. Thank you to Gene Roddenberry, Paramount, and Co. for bringing these characters to the screen. I've come to love these characters after rediscovering TNG as an adult. My first fic ever, and it is dedicated to my childhood friend Katie. I still remember the fun of snuggling up in your parents' waterbed to watch the adventures of our favorites. You loved Riker and I loved Geordi. They were our best boyfriends. We made up our own adventures then, so maybe I'll make up a few now. Read and review. Let me know if I've got any dates or timing wrong, or have other continuity suggestions.

2375

It was a morning like many, many others onboard a starship. The crew filling time as they made their way from Point A to Point B. For Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise-E there had been far too much of that lately. Thank god there were no longer children on his ship. With this much uninterrupted travel time on the Enterprise-D, Counselor Troi and Lieutenant Chin would have scheduled a "Captain Picard Day" for him at the school and probably a carnival too. He smiled at the memory.

When he'd talked about it with Beverly at breakfast this morning they'd laughed. Then in all seriousness, she put down her coffee, placed her napkin on the table, crossed her arms, looked him in the eye and said, "You think you're so smart, don't you, Captain? Now that I'm done with the Enterprise Dramatic Society's latest production, I think "Captain Picard Day" could be my next project." She'd paused then, to gauge his reaction. At the stricken look on his face she stood up, walked to his side of the table, perched on the edge, leaned down, and patted his arm. "Hmmm. Yes. I'm sure Data would be willing to lend a hand. And Deanna, of course. I'll bring it up at the morning briefing, shall I Captain?" It always gave him pause when she said "Captain" like that. Gave him a little thrill, but confused the hell out of him. He stood up to meet her gaze and placed his hands on both her arms. The loose embrace was the type of friendly intimacy they'd grown accustomed to. It was allowed.

"Beverly …" he said, warningly.

"You'll just have to wait and see what we come up with. This is what comes from too much time on a doctor's hands." She said, playfully poking him the chest. "Thank you for breakfast Jean-Luc and for last night. It was lovely. I need to check in at Sickbay before the briefing. I'll see you at 0900." She gave him a peck on the cheek and exited his quarters.

"Captain?" Deanna's inquisitive tone broke his reverie. "Is everything alright?" she said from her seat at his left. "We lost you there for a moment."

"Ah, yes, Counselor. I was just remembering last night's performances."

"It was a fun night. Another surprise hit from the dramatic society. I told Data I hoped we'd see more singing from him in the future. And dancing. I had no idea he and Dr. Crusher were working on that routine!" she laughed.

"Only Dr. Crusher would pick a song called "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better" for a duet and dance routine with an android," piped up Commander Riker. "I don't think Data understood that the song meant for them to be one-upping each other. He said each line as a fact, and Beverly played off him perfectly."

"Burns and Allen," muttered Picard.

"Excuse me, Sir?" asked Riker.

"George Burns and Gracie Allen were a comedy team from the 20th Century on Earth, Number One. They're mentioned in one of my favorite Dixon Hill novels. Straight Man, Funny Lady. In this case, Mr. Data was the Funny Lady. Though, unlike Gracie, I think Mr. Data was in on the joke. He's studied enough about humans and humor to know. You need to give him more credit. He and Dr. Crusher knew what they were up to. They knew the Enterprise needed a good laugh."

"Too true. It's been too quiet lately," said Riker.

"I like quiet. It's far preferable to bad news," whispered Troi, bringing them all back to the time, place, and their current situation. Beverly wasn't the only one chafing at the missions Starfleet had been sending them on lately.

"Indeed," said Picard. "Ensign Thomas, how long until our arrival at Evora?"

"Approximately thirty-one hours, sir."

"Maintain speed and heading. Commander, I'll be in my ready room until the morning briefing. Counselor, I'd like to meet with you afterwards about the briefing materials Starfleet sent about the Evoran ceremony tomorrow. Have you finished reading the report?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That makes one of us. Number One, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Picard exited to his ready room and paused to look out the viewport. But the stars did little to settle his soul this morning. Eleven years on one ship was a long time when you considered that most postings lasted about four years. He'd worked hard to keep his Enterprise "family" together over the years. Especially after the crash of the D on Veridian III. He now wondered if it had been worth the effort.

Maybe Worf had the right idea to leave after the crash. He knew many of the crew resented Worf's leaving, especially those who had served under him in security. But many crew had chosen reassignment rather than waiting for the new E to be commissioned, and Picard did not resent their choices. He envied their courage and sense of duty. He knew that many of his former crew were now serving on the frontlines of the Dominion War, with most of the rest of Starfleet. Too many had died. That had been very clear two days ago when the Enterprise had docked at Starbase 133. A once bustling base on the border between Federation and Klingon space, the complex was now nearly deserted.

A fact which had not escaped Worf's notice when they picked him up at the base. Mr. Worf was on leave and had elected to spend his Starfleet-forced vacation with old friends. He and Picard had shared dinner last night in Ten Forward before the Dramatic Society's Irving Berlin Revue. Picard had laughed when Worf had told him he didn't know what an Irving was, but that he'd been to Berlin in the area formerly known as the nation-state of Germany as a child and knew their people to be "efficient."

Worf had been waiting for the Enterprise at the base for three days prior to their arrival, and he told Picard that as a security officer, the lack of preparedness and staffing at the base was concerning. Especially in a time of war. Picard agreed and told him he felt much the same after the Enterprise's attempt to dock had taken close to an hour. He told Worf he would be making a formal report on Starbase 133's operations to Starfleet today. Much good it would do.

And now on to another wretched reception tomorrow. The planet Evora was joining the Federation as a protectorate. The Evorans had only achieved warp speed last year, and to Picard's mind they were not ready. According to the Federation's briefing materials, once first contact had been made, religious factions across the globe had opposed contact with off-landers. Prior to first contact, the Evorans believed they were the only sentient beings in the universe. Many still believed that their people were undergoing a test of faith and failing. Picard did not envy their regent for the uphill battle she faced uniting the people of her planet behind a Federation treaty. No, they were not ready to be active and contributing members of the Federation. Worf said he believed the Evorans could become a strain on the already tight resources of the Federation, but Picard could not begrudge them protection. If they upheld the values of knowledge, exploration, and peace they would eventually do the Federation proud.

Picard had truly enjoyed his dinner with Worf, and admittedly, he felt a little jealous of the Klingon. They'd had a very deep conversation about the Federation's goals and Starfleet's mission in the wake of the Dominion War. They were of much the same mind that Starfleet had made many foolish mistakes during the lead up to the war. Mistakes they were all paying for now. Worf had confided in Picard that he was considering leaving Starfleet. He was taking this leave after the death of his wife Jadzia Dax to review his options. He hadn't wanted to take any leave at all, but Starfleet and Captain Sisko insisted. He begrudgingly thanked Picard for allowing him refuge from vacation on the Enterprise. They were going to discuss projects for him to work on during his leave at the morning briefing with the rest of the staff, though they'd come up with a few last night. His first assignment? Try and enjoy his vacation and skip tomorrow night's reception.

While Picard would not have wished Worf's current situation on anyone, he had demonstrated the courage Picard could not. He'd left the Enterprise and built a new life on Deep Space Nine. Worf dared to start a relationship with a fellow officer, and then he'd gone and married her. An act that had surprised many throughout the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Surprised everyone, except those who had known Dax. Worf told Picard last night that he and Jadzia had been trying to start a family when she had been attacked and killed. The story uncomfortably reminded Picard of the episode with Ambassador Odan. Picard did not share that observation with Worf.

"I will remember her murder every day and that I failed her, Captain. But one cannot change the past, and if the time I had with Jadzia was the time we were allotted, it was enough. One day was enough, Captain. Jadzia is now feasting in Sto-vo-Kor, and for that I am grateful."

"Feasting with K'Ehleyr?" Picard said to lighten the mood.

"Hmm, yes. That does give one pause." Worf had genuinely laughed.

"How do you know one day is enough?" Picard asked quietly.

"I did not know. Jadzia convinced me. She was a most, persuasive, woman, Captain."

"Yes, I remember. To Jadzia and K'Ehleyr." Picard raised his glass.

Worf raised his glass in response. "To persuasive women. How is Dr. Crusher these days, sir? I regret that I have not been able to correspond with the doctor as much as I would have wished. What I know of her, I know via Counselor Troi."

Picard coughed. "Yes, well, not much to tell. She's been keeping busy with the dramatic society. Desperately trying to keep busy. I know it goes against her training as a doctor to be stuck here on the Enterprise when there are so many who need competent medical staff."

"Starfleet is a small community. Starfleet Medical, smaller."

"Beverly has lost many friends in the last two years. Research partners, classmates, nurses and other subordinates from the Enterprise-D. When Nurse Ogawa's husband was killed at the battle of Rigel, I had to lock her in her quarters to keep her from stealing a shuttle to go to Alyssa."

"It cannot be easy for Doctor Crusher. She is a warrior. She has long reminded me of the ancient Earth queen Boadicea."

"And instead of the Romans, she has been fighting the bureaucracy of Starfleet Medical with paperwork. She's put in for transfer after transfer, most recently to Lya Station Alpha. Had I been allowed, I would have left her on Batazed last year. Though, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to."

"The triage protocols she instituted on Batazed have now been deployed all along the skirmish line, I am told. They are calling it the Crusher Method. She is a great doctor. It is natural for a captain to do all he could to keep her, on his crew."

"Indeed. Well, we must be going Mr. Worf. Irving and Berlin await."

As Picard sat at his desk and brought up the briefing materials on Evora, he wondered. Is that what I've been doing? Just trying to keep a good doctor on the ship? Maintaining a good crew? Were they still a good crew when through the isolation of orders, they weren't doing any good? They all hid their dissatisfaction well. Through humor, hobbies, and lots of time on the holodecks. Picard knew more than anyone, it is hard to throw yourself into work when there isn't any work to do. He'd finished re-reading Shakespeare's Complete Works last month and was now starting on re-reading all the Dixon Hill novels. Not the private life of a starship captain in their prime, to be sure.

When he thought about it, the past two years rankled. Really rankled. It had taken a few months for this feeling to set into his bones. But if he was honest about it, the catalyst had been the Battle for Batazed last year. Seeing his crew in action. Seeing Beverly at her best.

Damn his orders, he should have left her there. Then he might have avoided two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours of the silent treatment after the death of Andrew Powell. It had taken him two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours to get her to Earth and Alyssa Ogawa. Granted, he shouldn't have locked her in her quarters until they were back in the Alpha Quadrant. But by then, had she wanted to steal a shuttle, it would have been safer. He knew Beverly, and stood by his decision to keep her from making a foolish decision. He was just never going to speak of it again.

When she'd returned from that month of leave, she'd apparently forgiven him and everything was as it should be. He met her in the transporter room after she'd beamed up from Starbase 74, and escorted her to her quarters in silence. "I endeavored to keep your flowers alive. I don't know how successful I've been." He told her to break the ice.

Instead of the expected acerbic remark, she'd rushed into his arms, hugging him close. "I think I missed you most of all, Jean-Luc. Thank you." And she'd kissed him lightly on the lips. "Supper?" He stayed for supper and they'd watched a Dixon Hill holofilm that Beverly had brought back from Earth especially for him. When he returned to his quarters late that evening, he had a subspace message waiting from Nurse Ogawa. No, Doctor Ogawa. He needed to remember, she was a doctor now, completing her fellowship at Starfleet Medical in San Francisco.

_CAPTAIN PICARD, THANK YOU FOR GRANTING DOCTOR CRUSHER LEAVE. I KNOW HOW MUCH THE ENTERPRISE NEEDS HER. IT MEANT SO MUCH TO HAVE HER HERE AT THIS TIME. SHE WAS SUCH A HELP WITH MY SON NOAH, AND A FRIEND WHEN ONE WAS NEEDED. THANK YOU FOR SHARING, ALYSSA OGAWA-POWELL. P.S. I TOLD HER TO LIGHTEN UP ON YOU BECAUSE YOU JUST WANTED TO KEEP HER SAFE. SHE KNOWS YOU'D DO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING TO KEEP HER SAFE._

Is that what he'd been doing? Aided and abetted by Starfleet's orders, had he been doing what he could to keep his "family" safe by keeping them away from the battlefront? Things certainly hadn't been the same since the start of the Dominion War. The enemy had good timing. With the Federation still reeling from the battle for section 001 with the Borg, and the Enterprise crew's jump to 2063, Starfleet had been weak and unprepared. Following the Enterprise's return to 2373, Starfleet had wrapped his crew in cotton wool and kept them well out of the war. In theory, he knew why, and even understood the admiralty's reasoning. Were the Enterprise to be lost it could be seen as the death knell for the Federation. And of course, the most famous ship in the fleet could not lose Starfleet's most famous captain. He knew the exploits of his crew were legendary, but it was still a difficult concept to grasp in practice.

With every casualty report and every communique from the front, the crew sunk further into isolation. It was starting to eat at morale, he knew. A ship full of explorers and warriors, relegated to babysitting. It was a travesty. Each and every crew member was meant for something more extraordinary than the monotony of shuttling ambassadors from planet to planet and returning new recruits to Earth and Starfleet Academy. And diplomatic receptions with chrysanthemum centerpieces. Starship captains weren't supposed to know which flowers were going into the centerpieces.

Beverly told him once she envied his ability to follow orders to the letter. She'd said it in a fit of pique during one of their many arguments over the Prime Directive. He couldn't remember what or who the argument had been about, but her words stayed with him. Is that what he'd been doing now, following orders and not thinking about them? It was safer that way. Safer for his crew, safer for his career. Had 2063 and the Borg finally kicked the snot out of him?

If he played it safe and followed orders, he knew they'd never make him leave the Enterprise. In the Nexus, James T. Kirk had said, "Don't let them promote you. Don't let them transfer you. Don't let them do anything that takes you off the bridge of that ship, because while you're there you can make a difference." Had he been holding on, following the rules, and avoiding risk simply to avoid leaving the Enterprise?

Holding on so tight, he was now stuck? Nothing illustrated this stagnation better than his relationship with Beverly. It seemed that every time he felt they'd moved forward, something set them back. Last night was a prime example of the merry dance they'd spun since she'd walked back into his life and onto his bridge eleven years ago. She'd been on fire last night, and she knew it. Her delight in performing for her friends and co-workers had been obvious and she'd been glowing. Her happiness was like a drug to him, and he'd all but ignored the other performers. After a perfunctory stop into the first-night/closing-night party in Ten Forward, he'd whisked her off to the holodecks for one of their ritual evening walks.

They'd been going for walks and hikes on the holodeck about once a week since they'd returned from Batazed, where they'd gotten into the habit in the evenings. Picard forcing Beverly to leave the triage center for a few hours every day to eat and take in the sights of Batazed. Since then they'd returned to the woods of Montana and walked along the Seine in Paris. They visited Loch Ness in Scotland and explored all the misty streets of Dixon Hill's San Francisco. Each one trying to out-do the other in programming new locations for their walk and talks.

Last night he'd brought her to the historic boardwalk in Atlantic City. As they entered the holodeck he whispered, "Let's take an old fashioned walk." They ended at the Garden Pier and BF Keith's theatre where Irving Berlin previewed some of his most famous shows. Then she'd drug him towards the tinkling sounds coming from the ballroom, a happy melody that sounded something like "Blue Skies" one of the songs Data had sung at the revue. The dance hall was nearly empty, with only a few couples remaining on the dance floor. A pleading look from Beverly was all it took for him to lead her on to the floor as the song "Cheek to Cheek" began. He'd held her close as they swayed to the song, neither one of them noticing the mezzo Soprano who'd joined the piano player on the stage.

_Heaven, I'm in Heaven,_  
_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak;_  
_And I seem to find the happiness I seek_  
_When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek._  
_Heaven, I'm in Heaven,_  
_And the cares that hang around me through the week_  
_Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak_  
_When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek._

As the song and their night drew towards its inevitable he'd considered asking her back to his quarters. He'd instructed the computer to have champagne chilling in the replicator by 2300. And then she'd yawned. Yawned and looked at him with tired eyes that said, "I'm sorry."

"C'mon, baby. I think that's enough stepping out for tonight. May I escort you back to your quarters?"

"Ah, I've got my Captain working for me now, " she'd mumbled as she took his arm as she normally did for the walk back to deck eight.

"Computer, end program. What was that?" he said as they exited the holodeck.

"Another great song by Irving Berlin. Your ensigns in Stellar Cartography had hoped for it to be included in the revue. You can thank me, that it wasn't. I told them I was putting together a classy show and we wouldn't be poking fun at the captain this time around."

"Thank you, kind sir, said she." He sang as they entered the turbolift.

"You did your homework, JeanLuc! You know, it's amazing that so many of Berlin's songs even made it into Federation databanks. Many of his contemporaries – Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, and Richard Rodgers – most of their songs were lost during the Eugenics Wars and the third world war. At the time, most popular music of the 20th Century hadn't been considered worth saving. I know it's not Beethoven or Bach, but you can't dance to Beethoven and Bach."

"Did you happen to come across any songs for the Ressikan flute in your research?"

"Let me get back to you. I'm sure I can come up with something. His repertoire is very versatile. That's why Data and I chose it for the revue."

A younger Picard would have brought her back to his quarters after a romantic evening like the one they'd shared. He'd have taken the risk. The intercom broke through his reverie. "Riker to Picard."

"Go ahead, Number One."

"An unidentified ship has appeared on our starboard side. Seemingly out of nowhere," reported Riker.

"On my way."

As he exited his ready room to the bridge, Ensign Thomas said, "Sir, she appears to be a Federation ship, but according to Federation reports, we're supposed to be the only ship in the sector."

"Open hailing frequencies. Unidentified vessel, this is the Captain Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. Identify."

"Enterprise this is the hospital ship Pasteur. It's good to hear your voice, Captain. It's been too long."

He knew that voice. "Pasteur, further identification needed."

"Fine Jean-Luc. This is Olympic-class hospital ship NCC-58925, the U.S.S. Pasteur. Captain Beverly Crusher, commander. Authorization 2-2, Beta Charlie."

"Confirmed. Commander Crusher. U.S.S. Enterprise Chief Medical Officer Crusher. Doctor Beverly Howard Crusher," chirped the familiar voice of the Enterprise computer.


End file.
